Dead or Alive
by amateur-nurse
Summary: Harry accepts Voldemort's invitation to join him and bring his parent's back, but things don't always go as planned. When Harry finds himself imprisoned and tortured, who will come to his aid? Warning: rated M for violence
1. Chapter 1

_Professor Quirrell stood facing the mirror, his back and misshapen head turned towards the boy-who-lived, Harry Potter. Flames danced behind Harry, blocking his escape._

"_Don't be a fool." Voldemort hissed. "Why suffer a horrific death when you can join me and live?"_

"_Never!" Harry yelled angrily as he backed up a step, closer to the heat of the flames behind him._

_Voldemort chuckled. "Bravery. Your parent's had it, too. Tell me, Harry, would you like to see your mother and father again?"_

_The mirror in front of Harry shimmered silver for a moment before Lily and James Potter appeared, holding hands and smiling down at their son. Harry startled, taken aback by his parents._

"_Together, we can bring them back. All I ask is for something in return."_

_Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the Sorcerer's Stone. It glistened red, reflecting the flames off its smooth surface. Harry studied it, rolling it over in his hand._

"_Fancy it, Harry. There is no good or evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it. Together, we'll do extraordinary things. Just give me the stone!" Voldemort's voice echoed off the stone walls._

"I could bring my parent's back?" Harry looked up from the stone to his parent's faces again, smiling and peaceful.

"With my help you could, child," Voldemort purred.

Harry gripped the stone tighter and pulled it back to his chest. As he looked down at it protectively, he could make out the faint reflection of his mother's face in the mirror. She looked so kind with the exact same emerald green eyes.

Hesitantly, Harry extended his hand towards Professor Quirrell's back.

"Take the stone, fool," Voldemort hissed. Professor Quirrell spun around and reached for the stone. Harry hesitated for only a second before dropping the rock into the man's hand.

"Very good. Now, we must leave while we still can," Voldemort said from behind Quirrell's head. "Quickly, wrap me back up."

Quirrell hastened to tie his turban back around his head, while motioning with his eyes for Harry to go towards the stone pillars in the back of the small cave-like room. Harry glanced behind him past the wall of fire, thinking of Ron and Hermione just in the next room. He mustn't think of them now, not when he was so close to bringing his parents back.

Harry trudged behind Professor Quirrell, his head hung low, as the man strode forward towards a hinge in the stone wall. Quirrell raised his hand to the wall and muttered an unintelligible spell. With a great groan, the door swung forward, reveling a stairwell leading further down into the dungeons. A short, beady eyed man stood beside the entrance in the shadows, wand at the ready. Quirrell ducked through the doorway and began descending the stairs at a swift pace. As Harry passed through the doorway, a jet of red light hit him in the chest as the man muttered the stunning curse. The world spun around Harry's eyes for a moment before he was cast into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Harry slowly became aware of the cold floor beneath him, seemingly sucking the heat away from his aching body. As he neared consciousness, his heart pounded in his ears, each beat making him painfully aware of the pain between his eyes.

He cracked open one eye, only to find himself in darkness. He pushed himself up into a sitting position with a groan; where was he? He groped around in the blackness, feeling nothing. He was aware of the stone floor beneath him as he pulled his legs around and stood up. Blinking his eyes in search of some light, he stumbled forward into a semi-solid object in front of him. Cylinder shaped, cold. Bars. He was in a cell of some sort. He felt along the bars to his right until they met the stone wall. He turned, following the wall and his knees bumped into another solid object. Reaching down he discovered a chair. No, it extended further. Scraping his nails against it, he discovered it was wooden, tacked to the wall.

His search of the cell revealed a small bucket in the corner. With another groan, he realized he'd found the bathroom. Confused and disheveled, he made his way back to the bench and sat down. His glasses were missing, but other than the pain in his head, he seemed to be in one piece.

A flash of light blinded him temporarily as he winced and shielded his eyes.

"So, you're finally awake," Professor Quirell purred as he advanced towards Harry's cell carrying with him a small tray. Harry squinted up at his former professor, unsure of what to do.

"Harry, my boy, I have a proposition for you," Quirell produced a set of keys from within his robes and proceeded to unlock the heavy cell door.

"It better be about how we can bring my parents back," Harry spat, pushing himself to his feet.

Quirell's eyes flashed angrily for a moment before he relaxed again into a faint smile.

"In time," Quirell said, handing Harry the tray he carried. Harry took it hesitantly, before sitting down on the bench and investigating the contents. There was a glass of water, some crackers and cheese on a little blue plate, chipped and worn. He gratefully gulped down the water, soothing his irritated throat before munching on a cracker.

"I trust everything here is to your satisfaction?" Quirell asked, a faint edge detectible in his voice.

"Well, I love what you've done with the bathroom and the bed is very comfortable. Nice and cracked, good for splinters," Harry muttered, pushing a piece of cheese into his mouth.

"If you prove…useful, we will see about upgrading your accommodations," Quirell said, taking a seat next to Harry on the wooden bench.

"Useful?" Harry asked, mid bite, fear in his wide eyes.

"Yes, you see, that was what I was referring to earlier. Harry, I know you've spent some time under the care of Dumbledore during the last year at school, but before that, where did you stay?" Quirell questioned.

Harry thought about the questions for a moment. He was unsure what he should disclose to the man. After a moment's hesitation, he didn't see any harm in answering the question.

"I stayed with my relatives," he said, finishing up the last of the cheese and crackers and placing the chipped blue plate beside him on the bench between himself and the professor.

"And what are your relatives like, Harry? I know they have a son just your age; I'm sure it was like having a brother," the professor said, adjusting his turban.

"Not exactly," Harry mumbled, looking down at his lap.

"What do you mean? I'm sure they were thrilled to care for their nephew, especially after the unfortunate passing of Petunia's sister."

Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Yeah, they were like the parents I never had," Harry said sarcastically.

"Really now? Tell me about it, my boy,"

"I don't really want to professor. You knocked me out and stuck me in a dirty jail cell. Why would I want to talk to you?" Harry glared up at the taller man.

"Suit yourself. Though I think you will find that the more you cooperate, the better you will be treated," Quirell said, rising and turning to leave the cell. Harry jumped to his feet as well.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry called after the man as the professor took out his wand.

"Expecto Patronum," the man whispered, causing a white light to shine from the end of his wand. A snake slithered out, silvery white, and slithered with urgency towards the open door at the entrance to the room and vanished.

Harry stood wide eyed, frozen to the spot. He had never seen magic such as this! He slowly turned his gaze from the door to look up towards his professor once more, who was regarding the boy with a look of amusement.

"You called me, sir?" an unfamiliar voice said from the door.

"Yes, Wormtail. Harry feels he has been treated unfairly here and would like to speak to the 'Complaints Department,'" Quirell said, turning to leave.

The short, stocky man smiled an evil grin, revealing half a dozen yellowed teeth. Harry's eyes widened as he retreated a step.

"Wait, professor! What was it you wanted to talk about?" Harry asked frantically as Wormtail approached his open cell door.

"Later, Harry. I trust that you will feel more cooperative in the future while I am here," Quirell said over his shoulder as the professor left the room, his robes billowing out behind him.

"So, you don't like your room?" Wormtail said, as he walked into the cell, pulling the door closed behind him with a clang.

"No, no I think it's quite lovely actually. It's got a homey touch in fact," Harry quickly said, pushing himself up against the wall away from the beady eyed man.

Wormtail laughed as he slowly advanced towards the boy.

"That's what we like to hear!" He said, grabbing Harry by the shirt collar and raising him up the wall to eye level.

"You just see that you remember that!" Wormtail said, throwing the boy to the ground. . Harry hit with a thud that knocked the wind from his lungs. He scrambled for a breath as a swift kicked knocked him on his back.

The man aimed another kick to Harry's head. He caught the force of the kick in the ear and Harry found his breath again as he screamed out in pain. The next kick found Harry in the abdomen, causing the child to double over and wrap his arms protectively around himself. The man laughed a cruel short chuckle as he aimed another kick towards Harry's face with a sickening crunch. Harry cried out again as hot pain radiated from his nose. He gagged as a metallic taste filled his mouth and began to run down his throat.

Struggling to sit up, Harry's stomach protested the abuse and blood. He gagged again before losing his meager meal. This only seemed to make Wormtail laugh harder as Harry continued to heave, whimpering pitifully as his bruised ribs contracted painfully with his heaving.

Reaching down, Wormtail hosted the boy up by his collar once more and tossed him against the wall. Harry hit the wall with a grunt and landed on his right arm as he made contact with the floor. His breath caught as he felt and heard a pop in his wrist. He desperately pushed himself up with his left arm as he cradled the injured one to his chest.

"Ah, did you hurt your arm? Let me see if I can help," Wormtail said, bending down eye level with the boy again.

"No, leave me alone! I haven't done anything!" Harry shouted, trying to pushing himself further into the wall. Wormtail snorted, reaching for the boys arm.

"No, please!" Harry pleaded, struggling to get around the man.

"I'm just trying to help is all," Wormtail said, finally catching the flailing arm.

"Now, does this hurt?" He flexed the wrist upwards, causing screams of pain from Harry who desperately tried to retrieve his injured arm.

"Ok, ok how about this?" Wormtail said, bending the wrist back towards the boys elbow. Harry's screams continued to echo off the walls of the cell, as he began to use his good arm to beat Wormtail about the head and shoulders.

"None of that now," Wormtail said, losing his toothy smile as he manipulated Harry's arm again, this time clockwise in a circle. The wrist caught in several places, causing Harry to stop his aggressions and scream pitifully.

"Well, this should help it," the short man said, lowering Harry's wrist back towards to floor, still retaining firm grip of it. Harry struggled desperately to pull his arm back from the man, as Wormtail lined his foot up above the misshapen wrist.

"No!" Harry cried as the foot accelerated towards his arm to land with a bone shattering crunch. The radial bone of his arm extended through his skin, the pale bone matching Harry's white face. The boy turned to his side and heaved again, getting nothing but bile and blood up. Wormtail smiled down at him, seemingly satisfied with his work.

As the man turned to leave, Harry was still heaving and gasping, mingled cries and sobs. As Wormtail closed the door behind him, the room returned to darkness.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger ran through the halls, her frizzy brown hair fanning out behind her.

"Professor McGonagall!" She screamed out as she made it to the professor's door, pounding the wooden door for all she was worth. "Please! It's a matter of life or death!"

The door swung open reveling an angry McGonagall.

"What is it Ms. Granger; it's nearly 3 o'clock in the morning!" the professor said, lighting the slender candle in her hand.

"It's Harry! He's gone after the Sorcerer's Stone! Ron is hurt in the dungeons, but Harry went on to stop Snape from stealing it!" She blurted out frantically pulling the professor out the door and towards the dungeons.

Professor McGonagall's eyes widened as she shut the door behind her and strode down the hallway, Hermione struggling to keep up.

"What's all the commotion? Who goes there?" Mr. Filtch called out angrily appearing in front of them from one of the many side hallways.

"Mr. Filtch, send for Dumbledore at once," McGonagall said, still purposefully moving towards the dungeons.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Harry dozed in the corner of his cell, his head resting lightly on his chest. He didn't know how long the man had been gone. His stomach growled loudly, causing him to jerk awake yet again. What he wouldn't do for a bit of water. His mouth still tasted of blood and every time he moved a muscle on his face, dried blood would crack and fall off. He was miserable. Cold, thirsty, and he needed to relieve himself badly.

Moving gingerly, Harry pushed himself up and started groping around for the bucket, cradling his grossly injured arm to his chest. He wasn't happy about using a bucket, but that seemed to be the least of his worries. His fingers made contact with the cool metal and Harry realized yet another problem. He couldn't see the bucket well enough to aim. Begrudgingly, he lowered his trousers and sat down on the chilly metal.

After relieving himself, he stood up and began to try to maneuver his way back to the bench. With a hiss of pain, he lowered himself down on the wooden bench, thankful for something in the cell that wasn't terribly cold. His abdomen was puffy and tender to the touch. Reaching his good hand up, he gently touched his earlobe, only to draw his hand back quickly with a yelp of pain. It was grossly swollen and sensitive. He could feel his heart pounding on the entire right side of his head, radiating from the abused ear all the way down to his injured arm. One eye felt swollen above his tender cheek bone. He didn't dare try and touch is face; it hurt anytime he blinked. He was forced to breathe through his mouth, unable to get any air through his nose. It was definitely broken, Harry thought to himself. Dudley had been in a fight once and come home with a broken nose. The doctor had manually straightened the bones and packed his nose with gauze. Harry shuttered to think of anyone touching his nose right now. He could live with it a little crooked.

Harry's stomach grumbled again, and he ignored it. There was nothing for him to do except sit in the darkness and wait for Quirell to come back.

With a sigh, Harry realized he would almost rather be back at the Dursley's cooking their Saturday morning breakfast. His mind wandered back to a time when he was very young, before Dudley had decided to dedicate his life to making Harry miserable.

_Harry sat in the living room floor, no more than 3 years old. His cousin sat beside him, rolling a big red dump truck back and forth through a beam of sunlight on the floor, giggling to himself. Petunia was outside pulling weeds from her flower garden, unaware of the interaction between the two boys. Harry reached out a skinny little hand to pick up a train from beside Dudley, gazing in wonder at the shiny green paint and little polished wheels. He had never played with Dudley before, and never in his life had he seen so many toys! Usually they remained in his cousin's room, but Vernon had moved everything out of his son's room to repaint the walls. It was a rare treat and Harry was enjoying every moment of it._

"_We pretend my truck run over your train?" Dudley said, acknowledging Harry for the first time._

_ "Yeah, but your truck have to catch my train!" Harry said, wobbling to his feet as he rolled the train across the coffee table. Dudley squealed as he chased after him, rolling his truck along the same paths Harry took. _

_ Harry rolled his train over the couch cushion, yelling, "all aboard!" over and over as his cousin chased him._

_ "Your train can't take people 'cuz it's gonna be squished!" Dudley called out, tackling the smaller boy from behind. Laughing, Harry rolled over his train protectively as his cousin reached under him searching for it. _

_ "You can't get it!" Harry said, leaping to his feet and wobbling towards the kitchen just as Petunia opened the back screen door, a look of surprise evident on her face. _

"_Dudley! What are you doing with this freak?! I thought I told you to stay in your cupboard!" Petunia said, grabbing Harry by the arm and dragging him towards the stairs. Dudley stared wide eyed after his mother, as Harry struggled to keep up, tripping over his feet as she dragged him along. _

_ "You just leave him alone!" Petunia said, pushing the child into the cupboard and slamming the door, locking it with a huff. Inside, Harry sat down on his worn mattress, and cradled the little toy train, turning it over and over in his tiny hands. He admired the polished wheels and smoke stake, wiping a tear away. Harry gently placed the toy on his shelf, lying down to admire it. The few beams of sunlight that could find their way through the cracks around the door seemed to illuminate the toy, as Harry imagined it racing through the country side, perhaps taking him far away from this place._

Harry shook his head to rid himself of the memory. It had been a long time since he had thought of it, and it gave him little comfort now.

He pushed himself back against the stone wall and tried to imagine his parent's faces again, desperate for any reprieve from the hell he was living.

* * *

"Now, tell us again Ms. Granger what happened?" Dumbledore said, running a hand through his white beard.

Hermione recounted the events of the night, starting with their suspicions about Snape stealing the stone and their attempts to prevent it.

"And then Harry told me to send for you, and he went on to save the stone," Hermione finished, nearly out of breath.

"Professor Snape has been protecting the stone, why on earth would he try to steal it?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"To keep Voldemort alive! We have to go save Harry!" the little girl cried, looking desperately between Dumbledore and McGonagall.

McGonagall looked up from the girl and made eye contact with the headmaster. He nodded and stepped towards Hermione.

"Ms. Granger, please stay here in my office and Professor McGonagall and I will go attend to the matter," he said, as McGonagall hurried towards the door, the headmaster following quickly behind her.

* * *

A search of the dungeons proved Hermione's story as the stone was nowhere to be found. Unfortunately, nether was Harry. Hermione joined Ron in the hospital wing as the heads of houses met in Dumbledore's office.

McGonagall stood beside Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff. Flitwick, head of Ravenclaw, stood next to Dumbledore, while Professor Snape lingered in the corner, obviously displeased. Everyone with the exception of Dumbledore wore bed clothing and sleepy expressions to match.

"I am sure you are all wondering why I have called you here in the middle of the night. To get right to it, the Sorcerer's Stone is missing and Harry Potter has been kidnapped," Dumbledore said, a chorus of gasps going around the room.

"Minerva and I have searched the dungeons and with Mr. Filtches help, we were able to search most of the classrooms and the Great Hall. Hagrid is currently searching the grounds for Harry, but so far, we haven't had much luck." Dumbledore lowered himself down to his chair with a sigh.

"Albus, how did this happen?" Professor Sprout asked, fanning herself with a small colorful hand painted fan.

"Hermione Grander, Ron Weasly, and Harry Potter thought that Severus was going to steal the Sorcerer's Stone tonight and acted to prevent it. Ron was injured and Hermione found Minerva shortly thereafter," Dumbledore said, bowing his head.

The eyes of the group turned to Snape as he snorted and adjusted his robes.

"Of course we know Severus had nothing to do with this, right Severus?" McGonagall asked, crinkling her brow in mild suspicion towards the dark haired professor.

"Certainly not," Snape spat, angry crossing his arms over his chest.

"Who could have done this?" Flitwick said, speaking for the first time.

"I have sent an owl to Nicolas Flamel to inquire any suspicions he may have, but besides that, I haven't been able to think of anyone else specifically. What are your thoughts?" the headmaster said, addressing the group of assembled professors before him.

"The key here is the boy. I can't think of why whoever wanted the stone would also kidnap a child. It must have been planned that way. If Potter had crossed them, they could easily have killed him and left with the stone. Why fool with kidnapping an arrogant brat?" Snape said from the corner of the room, glaring at the headmaster.

"Yes, Severus, that does narrow down the suspects quite a bit. Who would want the stone as well as Harry Potter?" Dumbledore said pointedly, returning the Professor's stares.

"But he is dead!" Professor Sprout said, fanning herself harder than ever as her wide eyes darted around the room.

"Prudence would say not to rule anyone out," Snape muttered towards the witch as she gasped again.

"I will contact the Ministry at once, and I would ask the rest of you to keep this information to yourselves. It will spread among the students quickly enough without our helping it along," Dumbledore said as the group started to disperse.

"Severus, a word please?" Dumbledore said, motioning for the Potions professor to be seated.

Hey guys, sorry I haven't updated this sooner. I have been drowning in school work and final exams! Please read and review, and especially let me know if the progression of the story doesn't make sense or you feel it could be improved. Thank you for reading my story! As always, a huge thank you to my best friend, Freidon, for helping me develop the plot. You should go check out her amazing stories! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The darkness of his quarters made it nearly impossible to keep track of the time. He passed the seemingly endless time attempting to tend to his injuries and sleeping. He had taken off his outer robes despite the chill of the damp dungeons to wrap a makeshift bandage around his injured arm. He hadn't dared trying to manipulate the bone back into place and he wasn't entirely sure if he should. It seemed to hurt worse every time he awoke, and he was beginning to lose sensation in his fingers.

The pain in his arm was troublesome, but the bane of his existence was the bucket in the corner that served as his bathroom. No one had come to empty it in quite some time and it had begun to smell terribly. The one time Harry had been offered food since his encounter with Wormtail, he had only managed to take a few bites before the smell of his small cell became overwhelmingly nauseating and he retched up the bit of nutrition he had ingested.

Harry shifted uncomfortably on the bench, feeling his heart beat in his right wrist and broken nose. He was sweating profusely despite his cold surroundings, and his mind seemed foggy and disoriented. His internal thermostat couldn't seem to make up its mind. One moment he was freezing; a curled up trembling ball, yet the next he was burning up, dripping sweat onto the stone floor.

Harry cocked his head as he heard muffled footsteps approaching the door. It swung open with a groan and Harry shielded his eyes with his good arm, the sudden presence of light disorienting him even further. The short stocky man appeared in Harry's line of sight bearing a tray. Harry didn't even bother to get up or acknowledge the man's existence, instead pulling his legs up into his chest and laying his head gingerly on his knees.

Harry heard the man opening the cell door and placing the tray on the floor with a clank. Then there was silence as the man stood beside the boy, casting a shadow over him.

" 'Ey boy, aren't you going to eat?" Wormtail asked, still surveying the boy with a wary glance.

Harry chose not to respond, listening instead to the increased frequency of his heart rate.

Wormtail approached the boy and grabbed a handful of his greasy black hair, forcing his head up, bring howls of pain from Harry. He stood looking at him for a moment before he released his head and walked back outside the cell, pulling it to behind him.

The man seemed to be gone for only a moment before returning with Professor Quirrell. The professor wrinkled his nose as he entered the cell. The stench was nearly overwhelming and a quick glance at the bucket in the corner revealed it to be overflowing. He walked over to the boy on the bench and took a seat next to him.

"I have some more questions for you, my boy," the professor said, regarding the slouched over child with mild interest.

Harry made to lift his head, obviously taxing his limited strength. He slowly stretched his legs out in front of him, careful not to jar his arm in any way, before turning to face the professor.

"Good. To pick up where we left off, I know that your treatment at your relatives was less than satisfactory," Quirrell said.

"Do you know who placed you in those conditions?" He asked the boy, craning his head to hear the croaked answer.

"Voldemort. When he killed my parents," Harry managed, his voice quiet and raspy.

"No, you arrogant child. Dumbledore placed you there, for the benefit of the silly blood bonds," Quirrell spat, his temper short. "And why didn't he remove you? Surely he must have known how you were treated; some inkling that your life was less than it should have been?"

Harry shrugged, turning to face the opposite wall again, slouching his shoulders.

"My dear boy, the Dark Lord is offering you so much more than cruel relatives if you will only agree to join him," Quirrell stated, carefully observing the boy.

"Yeah, he offers neglect AND abuse, with stunning accommodations," Harry mumbled to himself.

"What was that?" the professor asked, leaning towards Harry to catch his whispers.

"I said, why should I join him? I've already seen what he offers and I prefer what I had with the Dursley's," Harry stated matter of fact, turning again to face the professor.

"Don't be a fool. Surely you know what your options are here. You can either become an asset or be killed. The Dark Lord doesn't tolerate liabilities," Quirrell said, raising his voice at the end of his sentence to accentuate his point.

"What of my parents? When is he going to help me bring them back?" Harry asked, his voice faintly laced with hope.

"That may be a reward once you have proven yourself useful to the Dark Lord," the professor said.

Harry sat silent for a moment, silently thinking. He pictured once more the face of his mother, green eyes shining brightly. Her hair lined the soft features of her face, accentuating her warm smile. He was the reason she was dead. He had to make it up to her; bring her back. Then they could be a family again, together at long last.

Harry shook his head slightly, resigned to the fact that this was innately wrong. Voldemort was the reason his parents were dead. How could he join forces with their murder?

"Very well. I'll leave you to think some more about it. In time, I believe that you will see that this is the best road for you to take," Quirrell said, raising to his feet and turning to leave. "I don't suppose you'll be needing this," he said, reaching down to pick up the tray of food and water that Wormtail had brought into the cell.

Harry inwardly groaned. He could have used that water; his tongue and throat felt like sandpaper. The professor locked the cell door behind him and proceeded through the wooden door. Harry yearned for him to at least leave the wooden door open and leave him with the warm light it brought. But alas, he shut it behind him as well, returning Harry to his world of darkness.

* * *

Meanwhile at Hogwarts, Dumbledore and Severus had spoken extensively about any perceived whereabouts of Voldemort, but each and every one had lead them to a dead end. Though Snape worked for the Dark Lord as a double spy, it was dangerous to entrust his location to more than a few of his most trusted Death Eaters.

By now, the news of Harry's disappearance had circulated Hogwarts. The headmaster received owls daily from panicked parents about the kidnapping, and the Ministry had its hands full investigating leads from overly ambitious sources. The news of the famous boy-who-lived disappearance had left the wizarding world in an uproar, false leads pouring in from everywhere as witches and wizards attempted to assist the Ministry of Magic locate the child, yet only serving to compound the situation.

One day nearly a week and half after the boys disappearance, Severus was in the dungeons, preparing the months potions stockpile for Madame Pomfry and his own personal stores when his arm began to spasm. Startled, the Potions master pushed his sleeve back to reveal the dark mark on his wrist. Suddenly it began to burn and throb, and Severus covered it with his other hand, applying pressure as if to make the pain go away.

**"Severus, my loyal snake," **the Dark Lord's voice reverberated around the damp dungeon walls around the Potions master.

**"Yes, master, I am here,"** Snape replied, a tinge of nervousness barely perceivable in his voice.

**"I require your services. I have in my care, a prisoner who needs medical attention," **the Dark Lord hissed almost affectionately.

**"Of course, my Lord. May I be so bold as to ask who has dared cross you?" **Severus asked, a sinking feeling of dread in his gut.

**"It is my enemy from so long ago that I have in my clutches, None other than the boy-who-lived, Harry Potter," **Voldemort replied, his smug voice resonating in the various cauldrons and vials around the dungeons.

**"Yes, my Lord. I shall report to you at nightfall, when I will not be missed here. Will you disclose to me your location?" **Severus asked, beginning to make his way around the room, quickly gathering various vials and medical supplies.

A picture appeared in Severus's mind of a stony home surrounded by dark trees, protected by a wrought iron gate. Severus nodded his head curtly to indicate his understanding of the location.

The mark on his arm ceased its burning and Severus yanked his robes back over the arm. He had never cared for the boy who so resembled his father. Severus imagined the child's life growing up- pampered and spoiled by his relatives, only to become of age to be revered by the entire wizarding world as a hero. It was disgusting. Yet, despite his personal feelings for the boy, Severus's mind buzzed with possible ailments the boy could have that would have caused the Dark Lord to call upon him to heal the child. Despite himself, Severus Snape, cold-hearted bat of the dungeons, felt a twinge of fear for the child. The reality of imprisonment by the Dark Lord was surely barely perceivable yet; Severus knew from experience that no matter what shape he found the boy in, no matter what he did to heal the child, it would do him no good. Voldemort only wanted his prisoner healed so that he could further torture his victim.

Thank you everyone for reading this far! I hope that you like it! It would mean a lot to me if you would review it so that I can make improvements. Another big thanks to my best friend, Freidon, who continues to put up with me bugging her about this story!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Harry lay curled up on the dungeon floor. He couldn't remember the last time that he had moved from this position. Everything was dark and damp; he had no recollection of the passage of time. He only remained aware of the pain in his wrist, a dull ache that had slowly progressed to a constant sharp pain.

His lips were cracked and bleeding and his tongue seemed to be made of sandpaper. He no longer felt the growl of hunger in his stomach- it had long since stopped. Even his eyes were dry and sore. It did no good to open them; he could see nothing in the inky blackness that surrounded him anyways. He was unaware of the open sores crisscrossed along his side. He had laid in the same curled up position for so long that the skin that made contact with the dungeon floor and supported his weight had begun to ulcerate to reveal open sores with extensive tunneling.

Harry was unaware of any of this though. He was only aware that the brief periods that he was awake were filled with pain and aching, so he tried to will himself back into a numb slumber.

Suddenly a new pain hit him and jostled him awake. He cried out pitifully and tried to curl up into a smaller ball. He heard something above him speaking in soothing tones but this did nothing to calm him. He jerked as he felt someone touch his arm and he made to move away, moaning in pain. He had managed to get his feet underneath him when he became aware of hands holding him down. He struggled weakly against them before he felt something akin to a bee sting in his arm. Slowly the world melted away into peacefulness. The screaming pain that had become his new reality dissolved into a quiet ache and a faint smile played upon his cracked lips. He felt something soft under his head before his awareness fizzled away into peaceful nothingness.

* * *

Severus held a lantern up to a wooden door to try and decipher the scribbling on it. He had been given a set of keys and instructions to keep following the dungeons until he came upon several sets of wooden doors. Most of the doors contained prisoners and he glanced emotionlessly at them through the small bared openings at the tops of the doors. Finally he reached a door with no bars on it at the very end of the hallway, away from the other doors.

It opened for him with a groan and a sickening smell hit him. He turned his head quickly in an attempt not to gag. He was very familiar with the smell of infection, but it never failed to turn his stomach, especially when it was so contained like this.

He lifted the lantern up to reveal another doorway with bars. He walked forward hesitantly, unsure of what he would find in the cell ahead of him. His light revealed a crumpled figure on its side on the stone floor and a bucket overflowing with human waste in the corner. Crumpling up his nose, he worked quickly to open the door and hurried inside towards the figure.

A quick assessment revealed his clothes to be in a state of disrepair, torn and stuck to him in places. They were stiff with stool, blood, and infection and they would have to be removed gingerly. His lips were cracked and bleeding, and his skin was also cracked in places and riddled with open sores and infected cuts.

Severus noted that the boy seemed to be holding his arm at an odd angle, and when he leaned over the boy, he noticed white bone sticking through the skin. Severus shivered despite himself, and not because of the cold dampness of the dungeons.

Voldemort had placed certain restrictions on magic inside the premises of the dungeons to prevent any prisoner from escaping if they did manage to retrieve a wand. Severus coveted the use of magic to help him do what he must… it certainly would help make the job easier if he were able to use it.

As gently as he could, Severus attempted to shift the boy over, to get a better look at some of the worst of the wounds. In the process, a piece of Harry's shirt that was stuck to the floor tore off, taking with it a large piece of skin from his side. Harry cried out and seemed to try to shrink into a smaller target.

Startled, Severus tried to speak soothingly to the boy, but to no avail. Harry didn't seem to even hear him as he shifted around, trying to get his feet underneath him. In the process of squirming away, Harry jostled his fractured arm, causing it to bleed anew.

Severus quickly tried to wrap his hand around the wrist in an effort to stop the bleeding. This only seemed to make Harry more afraid, as he worked to pull his feet under his legs. Severus used his other hand to try and hold the boy in place, still whispering soothingly. After a moment of struggling, Severus gave up and held the boy down with one arm while using his other to empty the contents of his bag. He pulled out a large bore needle and supplies from the bundle of things on the floor.

Still holding Harry with one arm, he used his teeth and the other hand to tie a tourniquet around Harry's arm, growling in frustration when he failed to see even one vein. He rubbed the boys arm vigorously, searching with his fingers for even the hint of a usable vein. Finally he felt one, smaller than he would have liked, but usable.

He attempted to hold the boy as still as he could before inserting the needle into Harry's arm. The boy made no sign that he'd even felt the needle, continually to struggle weakly against his professor. Seeing a flashback of red blood in the needle, he quickly snapped the tourniquet off and flushed the line to prevent the vein from collapsing.

Not even bothering to tape the IV in place yet, he screwed on a syringe full of Dilaudid and pushed it as quickly as he dared. Harry began to relax and stop his struggling. His lips formed a small smile as he sighed. Uncapping the next syringe with his teeth, Severus pushed a dosage of Versed into the IV, flushing it again. This time, Harry stopped moving entirely, relaxing completely. Severus propped the child's head on his robe, trying to maintain a good airway under sedation.

Sighing, Severus finally let go of the boy long enough to tape his new IV into place. He worked to set up a makeshift IV pole, hanging a bag of 0.9 % saline on the cell bars. Now that he had IV access and Harry was out of pain, he could continue his assessment.

He gingerly cut the soiled clothing away from Harry revealing more cuts and bruises beneath the grime. He needed to clean them out, and he might as well do it while Harry was asleep. Severus moved the waste bucket outside the wooden door, helping the stench of the room. He retreated to the end of the hallway and retrieved another clean bucket and filled it with water from an old spicket also at the end of the hallway. He looked around further and to his delight, found an unused room with a fireplace and a makeshift cot.

The professor returned to Harry's cell and lifted him easily into his arms, concerned by how light the boy was. He reached up and retrieved the IV solution from the bars as well, navigating his way down the hall towards the other room.

Once he reached it, he laid the boy gently down on a blanket on the floor. His wounds needed to be washed out and this seemed like the best way to go about that. Severus worked quickly to start a fire (a lengthier project without magic!) and fill up the cauldron over the fire with water from the spicket. Soon the water was warm enough to begin cleaning the boy's wounds.

Severus scooped the water out slowly onto the open cuts and wounds, washing away the grime and dirt. Harry remained blissfully unaware of what was going on, still resting peacefully. The professor worked tirelessly cleaning each cut and applying ointment and a clean dressing on the worst of them. After he had covered most of the cuts and bruises with ointment, he undid his makeshift dressing over the boy's arm. Sighing to himself, he sat down next to the boy and looked at the arm. It would be difficult to manipulate back into place and he wouldn't know for sure if he had it placed correctly without the proper equipment.

Grabbing another vial of Diluadid, Severus dosed the child again knowing that this would be a painful procedure. The professor carefully counted the child's respirations, not wanting to overmedicate the boy.

Severus moved the arm away from the boy's body onto a large piece of clean gauze. He carefully washed out what he could with saline, flushing out large chunks of infection and grime from inside the wrist. It started to slowly ooze blood again, but Severus was unconcerned. Hopefully the small amount of blood loss would help to further clean the wound.

Sucking in his breath, Severus grabbed to the boys arm and hand, holding it tightly. Gauging the direction of the break carefully, he used his thumb to quickly grind the pieces of bone back together. This brought a howl of pain from Harry as he pushed himself up dizzily. His blurry eyes searched the room frantically as he pulled the injured limb towards his chest.

Beginning to speak soothingly again, the professor tried to gently ease the boy back down. Harry would have none of it though, struggling to pull away. Opting to not give the boy any more medicine at the moment, Severus stood up and sat down behind the boy, still speaking in soothing tones. Harry, highly medicated, still drowsily looked around, cradling his wrist to his chest.

"It's only me, Harry. I'm not trying to hurt you. You're sick and I am taking care of you. That's right, just relax and don't fight me. Shh, you're alright. Just lay still and relax," Severus continued his one sided dialogue as he slowly persuaded Harry to lean back against him.

Harry leaned back against his professor, still looking around drowsily, his eyes beginning to droop again. Severus continued to talk in slow, easy tones as he felt Harry relax against him. He stopped talking as he felt Harry slouch down, the professor fully supporting his weight now.

Severus had never really liked the boy, but that didn't stop him from practicing good bedside manner. He also didn't feel that anyone should be tortured the way that Harry had obviously been tortured, regardless of how idiotic their fathers were.

Pulling himself out from under the child, Severus lifted Harry on to the bed on top of the sheets and began to tend to his arm again. Because of the infection and the open skin, he was wary to put it in a cast. He decided to wrap it up and splint it so that he could check it again and allow the swelling to go down.

While he was wrapping it, he searched carefully for any signs of gangrene in the affected tissue. Though it was grossly swollen and misshapen, thankfully he didn't note any signs of sepsis or gangrene.

After he had wrapped and splinted the arm, he secured it to the boy's stomach in hopes that it wouldn't jostle the healing bone. He assessed the boy's broken nose and cleaned the dried blood from around his face and lips. He was able to quickly set Harry's nose without causing too much distress to the child.

He tended to what he could visibly see was wrong with the child, adding to saline drops to his eyes, swabbing out the boy's mouth and adding an antifungal ointment to his dry tongue to discourage and unwanted flora from growing there. He dabbed ointment on the boy's lips and slathered barrier cream over the boney parts of the child's body to counter any more pressure ulcers from forming.

Finally, Severus changed out IV bags and set to work rectifying the boy's nutritional state. After thinking for a moment, he selected a small gauge NG tube to use for the child and carefully inserted it through Harry's nose, down to his stomach. Harry gagged for a moment when the tube passed his throat but otherwise remained restful. Severus propped him up and began administering small amounts of tube feeding, brown mushy nutritious food that would be very easy for Harry's stomach to digest. He only administered half of the recommended dosage, afraid that Harry's stomach couldn't take the full amount.

Having administered the tube feeding and secured the NG with tape, Severus slowed down the drip rate on the antibiotic solution going into Harry's IV. Thinking of nothing else he could do to help the boy, the professor added more wood to the fire and pulled a chair up beside Harry's bed. He added another blanket to the one already covering the boy and leaned back in his chair to wait. He watched the child's even breathing, the steady rise and fall of his chest. The fire's warmth and crackling combined with the stress of the day put Snape into a hypnotic state as he stared into the flames.

He thought of the events of the day as he stretched out as best he could in the uncomfortable chair. Unfortunately, his work had just begun with Harry. He had done all he could for the boy, the rest was up to Harry.

You guys have to bear with me; I thought of having Severus help Harry with magic but I thought I could do a better job from a medical standpoint. Tell me what you guys think and if you notice any corrections that need to be made! Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The moon had risen and had begun to dim as the first light of the sun began to peak over the misty mountains. Severus stood, staring out the window, brow creased in concentration. He was torn. His loyalty to the Order prompted him to take the boy and run, no easy feat. However, he knew better than to try and weasel the boy away under the very nose of the Dark Lord. He envisioned a bloody mess as he imagined towing the boy through the castle. Harry certainly couldn't walk, much less stand, and Severus's mind was riddled with impossible task of sneaking the boy away.

His thoughts were disturbed as he heard the boy moan in his sleep behind him. Severus turned to look at the boy, swaddled in musty blankets on the bed. Severus had done what he could during the night, tending to the boy's wounds. He administered medications to counter-act the fever and infection around the clock, careful to monitor the swelling of the hand and wrist. Thankfully, the initial swelling after he had set the wrist had not progressed further. Still, placing the arm in a more study and permanent position with a cast bothered him, since the arm could swell further.

Malnutrition placed further insult to the boy's injuries, and the potions master feared he would not heal without some form of constant nutrition.

Glancing anxiously back out the window, he noted the time. Surely the Dark Lord would not look favorable upon changing the boy's rooming conditions. Severus needed to move him back into the cell before Wormtail noticed.

Nodding curtly to himself, the potions master set himself to the task of at least cleaning some of the tiny cell the boy had lived in. After briefly searching the halls, he located a mop and cleaning supplies. Severus worked quickly, emptying the bucket in the corner and managing to contain most of the spilled contents. He paused to inspect the room and reconsidered his earlier plans to rescue the boy. Shaking his head, he resigned himself to the foolishness of this plan.

He returned to find the boy still sleeping. He was still badly bruised, his skin yellow and green in places with bruises in different stages of healing. The potions master dug through his bag and selected several more medications to administer before returning the boy. One for nausea and vomiting, with the added benefit of drowsiness and another for the pain when the boy awoke. Carefully cleaning the IV port, Severus administered the medications silently, observing the boy's facial features and respirations. Harry's breathing slowed noticeably, but not enough to cause the potions master alarm.

With care, Severus removed the tube from the boys nose he had used to provide some measure of nutrition. Harry coughed and gagged a little in his sleep as the tube passed his throat, but then settled down as the older man spoke soothingly to the child. Hesitating, Severus also removed the IV. He shivered to himself imagining what schemes Wormtail could dream up to use the port for. Pausing for a moment, he observed the boy before him. Despite the injuries, Harry's color looked better and he seemed to be resting peacefully.

With surprising tenderness, the potions master lifted the sleeping child into his arms. Cursing himself mentally, he decided to take one of the tattered quilts with him back to the cell. Even Harry deserved some reprise from the unforgiving stone floor. As gently as he could, he carried the boy down the steps into the dank cell. Careful to avoid aggravating the child's injuries further, he laid him on the stone floor, pulling the quilt around the boy's shoulders. Harry moaned quietly in his sleep, his body already protesting the cold hard floor beneath him.

Chancing one more quick glance, Severus stared for a moment at the child before turning on his heel and exiting the cell. He pulled the barred cell door closed behind him with an unavoidable clang and watched the child flinch violently in his sleep.

* * *

Several hours later, Harry stirred from his slumber. Instantly aware of the pain, he noted that it was better than it had been in days. He felt in the darkness of a makeshift sling and bandage around his injured arm, securing it to his body. He wiggled his fingers hesitantly, pleased to finally feel some sensation in them.

His nose throbbed badly and he tentatively used his uninjured arm to feel his face. Though he dared not probe the injury, he noted that his nose felt straight again and it was easier to breath.

Stirring further, he felt something soft around and under him. He couldn't see in the darkness of the cell, but it felt like a blanket. Confusion battered his weary mind. Wormtail tended to his injuries and gave him a blanket? Something wasn't right. He didn't know what new trickery had befallen him, but somehow he had found renewed strength to fight whatever came through that door next. No one would lay another hand on him if he could help it.

* * *

"I understand why you left him, Severus," Dumbledore's face was crinkled in concern as he listened to the potion master's recollection of the night's events. "If you had attempted to take him, our secrecy would have been compromised and it's doubtful you would have escaped alive."

Severus glared at the Headmaster. "We should notify the Order. He cannot last much longer, Albus. His injuries are grievous." Snape continued to glare as the Headmaster thoughtfully stroked his frazzled white beard.

"Of course; we will notify them at once," Albus reached for an aged piece of parchment and began to scribble words thoughtfully on it.

"Surely you don't intend to send an owl? Perhaps I have not impressed upon you the urgency of the situation," Severus growled, bowing his head to observe the other man's writing.

"We need time, Severus. One does not barge into a situation such as this without thoughtful consideration as to a plan of attack and escape," The Headmaster responded, not taking his eyes off the paper upon which he wrote.

Cursing under his breath, Snape turned sharply and strode quickly from the room.

_****It's a pre- Halloween miracle! I've finally decided to pick this story back up. Thanks to the suggestions in the reviews, I left Harry in captivity for awhile longer. I know this chapter seemed rushed, but once I rediscovered the story, I was anxious to pick it back up. More and better writing to come soon! I welcome any and all suggestions as to the story's progression. Also, I am in need of a beta to check out new chapters before they are published. Please message me if you are interested. As always, thank you for taking the time to read my story. Please leave a review before you start the next story on this site :) ****_


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